Two Dearly Departed Dark Lords
by Orange et Blue Morality
Summary: In Which Magic/The Force Meddles (Because She's a Meddler), the Master of Death Tries to Save People Again (Because He Suffers from Chronic Heroism), and a Baffled Tom Riddle and a Confused Anakin Skywalker Have Opportunities Shoved Into Their Faces Whether They Like It Or Not. (Considering the Lady Magic/Force, They Better Like It Or Else).
1. 01 Second Time Around - Harry

**Author's Note:**

It would really help to read the two works preceding this one in the series as this segues from both (and merges the universes). In case one doesn't have the time right now, the quick-and-dirty situation is this: This is post-series. Everyone is dead. Everyone is hanging out in this other dimension, sort-of after life. Neither Tom or Anakin has any idea why they're in limbo, but they're there anyway, trapped with memories of their life. For two people with a mountain pile of unpleasant memories, the situation is a pain in the backside indeed.

Again, any comments, feedback and insight are much appreciated.

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 **Part 3 of the Series 'Folded Between Disbelief and Damnation is Your Disused Hope'**

 _In Which Magic/The Force Meddles (Because She's a Meddler), the Master of Death Tries to Save People Again (Because He Suffers from Chronic Heroism), and a Baffled Tom Riddle and a Confused Anakin Skywalker Have Opportunities Shoved Into Their Faces Whether They Like It Or Not. (Considering the Lady Magic/Force, They Better Like It Or Else)._

* * *

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 **= Second Time Around =**

'-

 **Harry**

* * *

"So, how have you been, Tom?" Harry casually strolled up to Tom's bench.

He shrugged, not particularly certain of the answer. Was he fine? He didn't know what other people consider fine. He was bored out of his wits, yes, and he was quite dissatisfied with some of his Death Eaters as he reviewed some of the events in his life—he was pretty sure that he wouldn't bother with Wormtail at all if he ever saw him again. But he wasn't sure that Harry wanted to know that. All things considered, it wasn't as if he had to put up with any sort of unmitigated torture here.

"Alright, I guess."

"Good!" Harry said, smiling and entirely too chipper for Tom's tastes. He took something from the recesses of his coat and pressed it into Tom's hands. "Here's your ticket for the next try. Have a nice trip!"

 _A good cuppa would've been better, Potter_ , he thought, but didn't voice it.

He didn't check the ticket immediately, preferring to eye the Master of Death with a long-suffering expression.

" _Please_ don't tell me it's for _Blackpool_."

"It's not Blackpool." Harry sighed.

Tom looked down. The paper was thicker and smoother than he'd expected. "So, what trip? Where am I supposed to find this… Second Time Around Express slash Flight slash Interdimensional Portal period?"

Harry rolled his eyes. "Very droll, Tom. You don't have to go anywhere, of course. Just wait here. Your ride will find your _ticket_ when it's time to pick you up. It's obvious."

"Oh, _of course_ it makes sense for a train to locate its passengers one-by-one across _an entire station_ instead of expecting the passengers to gather in _one platform_. How unperceptive of me." Tom said dryly.

"Hey, the passengers don't always come from the same place or time, or end up in the similar worlds. It's easier than chancing people getting lost on their way. 'Sides, it's not as if you'd be picked up anytime soon, yet. No need for the sarcasm." Harry said, completely unperturbed. "No need to thank me either."

"Thank you very much for your help," Tom said, along with a perfect bow. It surprised him that he was not entirely disingenuous in his appreciation. Harry smiled, as if he was quite aware of what Tom was feeling, and it was enough for him.

"My pleasure," Harry said, replying in kind.

It was Tom's turn to be surprised by the warmth in it. As Harry continued speaking, Tom could see the tips of his wand glowing bright blue, "Safe journeys. Also, _do_ get along with your travelling partner. His life's as complicated as yours and Magic herself decided that you would both do better if you could watch each other's back. It made perfect balance as well—you're given one life for you to fix, and you pay it by another that you are bound to watch over."

Tom shook his head, reeling from the sudden news dump (oh, he remembered all of it, he was that good, but he'd still need enough time to process it). Of all the glimpses he had into Harry Potter's life, he _knew_ he should've expected this. The boy-who-lived was a bit of a slob when it came to his personal quarters—the only reason he kept the more common spaces neat was because he was too nice to inconvenience other people otherwise. Thus it wasn't really a surprise to find Harry rushing everything at once to him, right before an apparent departure instead of planning it ahead of time. He had so many questions he didn't even know where to start.

"Magic herself? Not itself?"

Harry nodded. "Yes, herself, whatever name she holds in whichever world. Don't ever catch you calling her _it_ , though, not when you know better. She gets… tetchy."

"What was it about a travelling partner?"

"Ah, yes. _That_ ," Harry muttered. "Well, you _know_. People you travel with."

Tom pinched the bridge of his nose. "I would have thought that years, no, _decades_ of being in the company of good Miss Granger would've expanded your vocabulary a little more and improved your explaining skills, Potter. Please try again."

Let it never be said that Tom Riddle didn't keep tabs on the people that could possibly pose a threat to him. He was quite aware of who Hermione Granger was, thank you, especially since she seemed to be McGonagall's protégé. Harry looked sheepish, but continued to grin regardless. Tom watched him carefully now. Was it just him, or did it look like the Master of Death was hiding something?

"It's just that you have an unusual arrangement. It doesn't happen often. I'm at loss to explain it."

"You could start at the beginning," Tom said, "Proceed to the middle, and stop when you've reached the end."

"You've read Alice in Wonderland! I almost can't believe that." Harry exclaimed with glee.

"Potter, _focus_." Tom said, with the sort of polite insistence to his statement that most diplomats and statesmen understand to generally meant as _backed by an army_. He would like to think that he's a patient man, but he had never been particularly tolerant of idiocy. Harry's liberal use of silliness would probably drive him up a wall over longer acquiantance. _The man's almost like paint fumes that way_ , Tom thought at random _do not expose yourself for prolonged periods in closed spaces, or no one is to be blame for your headaches but yourself_.

"Well, you probably won't be leaving so soon because you'd need to get to know your partner—"

"What I was wondering about," he cut in with the same dulcet tones he had been using, "was what it would mean to have a travelling partner."

He glanced at his ticket again. "Let me see if I am correct. I have a second chance at my life with this ticket you've just given me. Is that true?"

Harry seemed to have considered something for a while before nodding. "Yes, it's true."

"Good. Now, for this partner, is he coming along to my life?"

Harry closed his mouth. It was only after a silent, staring contest between the two of them that Harry relented, slightly peeved. "You know, you're supposed to figure that one on your own, little by little."

"Is that a yes?"

" _Yes_." Harry said grouchily. Tom blinked. Well. That was easier than he'd thought. He ran his thoughts back to what Harry had said to him. _Magic herself decided that you would both do better if you could watch each other's back_. And then: _you're given one life for you to fix, and you pay it by another that you are bound to watch over._

Tom turned the thoughts with care in his mind, observing them at different angles. He was beginning to get an inkling about what happened. Not completely, perhaps, but a greater picture was emerging from the mists. He was almost enjoying the mental workout he was getting.

"Please correct me if I'm wrong Harry. In actuality, you're not just giving me _a_ life that is a second chance—you're giving me _two_ lives."

Harry sighed. "You're no fun, you know? I can't lie to you—and I don't want to, so I'll be honest. Yes, you'll have two lives."

"One for myself, and one for my travelling fellow," he stated.

"One life is yours to fix, the other is his," Harry replied, giving up all pretense at mystery altogether as he threw his hands in the air and muttered something about control freak ex-dark lords. He paid it no mind.

"And we're suppose to watch each other's back," he said, wondering out loud. "So I gather that in _my_ second chance, he'd be present too, and in _his_ second chance, I would also have to live through it."

" _Brilliant_." Harry said, though the dispirited tone that he said it gave the impression that he thought it was anything but. "With a mind like that, why did you become a provincial British dark lord, again?"

 _The closest conjecture right now is temporary insanity due to increasingly fragmented souls_ , Tom thought, but damn if he wanted to say anything out loud. It was a bit embarassing when Harry could see the fault in his grand reasoning where he couldn't. It didn't matter that he knew Harry _was_ quite sharp and perceptive, even if somewhat laidback academically. He supposed it was his damned ego and pride—the same thing that had gotten him in trouble before.

"How would the two lives go, then? In turns? I go into my life and he tags along, and then he goes into his life and I tag along?"

The wide grin on Harry's face that soon grew into alarming proportions. Alarming by Tom's standards, anyway.

"Now _that_ is something truly revolutionary. You see, there's this ingenious method I came up with—"

"Is there an alternative method I can review and choose?" Tom asked. Harry put on a wounded expression that would put the Weasley twins to shame.

"Really, Tom, one would think you have no faith in me—"

"I don't," he said drolly.

"—but rest assured that I did my best by you," Harry finished, undeterred. "Now, let me introduce you to a fellow recovering dark lord."

He closed his eyes and pinched the bridge of his nose again. _Must. Not. Punch. Potter_.

"Your faith in the goodness of men's hearts is _astounding_ ," Tom said, cynical.

"It's not _just_ faith if you have the knowledge to back it up," Harry said. "Especially since I wasn't doing this alone. You'd meet Magic soon. Aaaaanyways, don't get on each other's nerves too much, right? You _do_ know that being a prick is your choice instead of your default mode?"

"Why, whatever could you _possibly_ mean?" The Slytherin's tone was too innocent to even be possible.

"You don't always have to sidestep questions about yourself, you know? Or take advantage of people's worries and play on that?" Harry said. "You could be a bit more open about yourself. Try it. You'd be surprised at what people can accept."

Tom took a long, steady breath. He should've known that being a Hero would've gotten into his head—Potter _never_ grew out of his habit of wishing for miracles.

"What do you want from me, Potter?" He asked, his voice dry.

"Do you want me to scare the sheeps witless? Let them know that a wolf is living next door? The mobs with the pitchforks would occur very quickly then. I thought I was going through a second _life_ here, not a very short one along with a brutal second _death_. Unless _that_ was your idea of justice."

Harry noted his issues and listened to it, but he wasn't one to give up easily.

"Not everyone might be prepared for the truth, yes, but why not some people? Don't you think there's a reason I'm introducing you to another ex-dark lord?" Harry asked.

Tom didn't deign to answer.

Dark Lordship, after all, is a solitary occupation by their vigilant and hyper-aware (read: paranoid and overly-controlling) nature. He was quite sure that the presence of two dark lords within a city's perimeters should be read as ' _Weapons of Mass Destruction Engaged_ ' and thus consequently ending with the city wiped off the map. He couldn't push the feeling of premonition hanging over him away.

 _Really, whose bright idea is this?_

For a moment, he couldn't stop himself from considering what Voldemort usually do to people who came up with so-called bright ideas like this one.

'-

"Harry."

"Yes?"

"What if I end up massacring people again?" Tom asked, hands inside his pockets and his posture slouching in a way that Harry was certain the Head Boy, model student of Hogwarts never did. It was a study of carelessness, but because of it Harry was made too aware of it. "Because some idiots are going to stay idiots. It would certainly be a lot less hassle if we just wipe them from the equation altogether, leaving your generation with the more reasonable and promising people afterwards to work with."

Harry was sure that Riddle was baiting him, but his tone was completely truthful. He shrugged.

"Well, people would just get massacred, I suppose. There'd be a hero or another that will fight you, maybe another prophecy and voila, dead again. Though if you've been a Dark Lord _twice_ , I certainly can't promise another chance after that."

Tom nodded, contemplating.

"You'd also have twice as many memories of ' _Things I Screwed Up While Living'_. Have fun living through all of that again. Oh, did I mention that we have a more immersive system than the moving pictures of past life's memories that you will get to try out in that case?" Harry said, just as cheerful.

"It'd be like a pensieve, but worse."

He received an unamused stare for that, but it slid off him as water on a duck's back. He was pretty sure that Tom understood it well enough.

There is scarcely any other poison as bitter as one's own regret.

'-

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	2. 02 Second Time Around - Padmé

'-

 **Padmé**

* * *

"Ani?"

The voice was one he never imagined he would ever hear again from, all his daydreams and hopes notwithstanding. Her long brown hair fell down her back, more relaxed than the official styles she usually kept it in. She was radiant, and his feet crossed the distance between them unconsciously.

" _Padmé_."

She'd blushed. Her name always sounded like benediction from him.

The love of his life reached for him, and Anakin made no excuses for sweeping her up into a kiss he poured his soul into. Her compassion cracked the frozen shell that being Darth Vader had locked him. By the enthusiasm of her reply, one would think that minding it was the farthest thing on her thoughts right then, but then Anakin wasn't most people. A while later he stilled when he realised what he was doing, hurriedly stepping back. It was fortunate that Padmé held on to him before he could get very far, the grip she kept on his shoulder spoke of how she wasn't going to stand for any distance nonsense. She stared at her husband in bewilderment.

"What are you doing?"

He didn't meet her gaze. "I'm sorry. I shouldn't have done that."

"Why not?"

"I… do you know what I did to Luke and Leia? What I did to you in Mustafar?" He asked. His gaze was pleading her not to ask more, not to push him.

She approached him and lifted his chin up so he would see her. She nodded slowly. "I do. Obi-Wan had told me everything."

His voice was bitter when he spoke next. "Then it's clear. I don't deserve anything you—"

" _Ani_ ," she said. "He told me _everything_. Yes he told me about Mustafar and our poor babies, but he also told me of Palpatine, of the suit you were stuck in and how Luke managed to reach you in the end. You turned your back from the Dark Side."

"It doesn't change all the people that are dead because of me," he insisted.

Padmé didn't roll her eyes—she was much more stately than that when in public, thank you. She did pull him into a tight hug, and her husband froze in awkwardness for the first few seconds before he did what he always did—melt at his wife's touch. His nose caught the fragrant scent of her hair and he closed his eyes, willing the moment to last for eternity.

"Obi-Wan was right. You're too stubborn for your own good," she said. "It's a good thing I'm just as hard-headed as you are."

"Nothing that I said was wrong, Padmé."

"No, but you're focusing on entirely the wrong thing," she insisted. "Did you get the ticket that Obi-Wan was supposed to give you?"

"I did, but I don't know what it means."

"Didn't he explain it to you?"

"He did say that you were coming along and that you could do it for me."

Padmé huffed a little, but her annoyance didn't last long. It never did when Anakin was rubbing circles into her back. "The cheek of that man! Never mind that. Basically it's a chance to relive your life and try to do it better than the last time. You get that much, right?"

He nodded, and she could certainly feel it with his chin on top of her head.

"That is why that you need to focus on the future, Ani. Your mistakes as well as other people's haven't happened then. If you let the past haunt you, you'd be missing the changes and opportunities of the present. I know you feel guilty, it's natural. It would be a while before you could come to terms with what you've done. At the same time, I know you're a good man—"

"I don't—"

"You're a _good man_ ," she said firmly, overriding his objection. "If you keep that in mind and choose the choices you can be proud of instead of the ones that will bring you regret, you can make a better future for all of us. Can you do that? Can you think of me and the children and work towards becoming the husband and father you wanted, in the intervening years before we meet and become family again?"

"Can you think of your actions in light of the kind of stories you want to be able to tell your children, years in the future?"

Anakin didn't know what he did to deserve Padmé, but he thanked the stars for it. The moment he had held her, her love for him was a warm blanket that soothed his soul, easing away aches and wounds that had been there for so long he didn't even realise he had them until he was whole again. His love for her filled all the gaps in his heart until he was overflowing. He didn't stop the tears falling from his eyes when he kissed her, this time in joy instead of loss. She herself had never wanted many things, though what she wanted most was never the easiest thing for the galaxy to grant.

She wanted her husband back.

After the end of both their lives and a lengthy separation, she had that, even if for a while.

'-

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	3. 03 Second Time Around - Tom

'-

 **Tom**

* * *

 _Tom gets his horizons expanded and experience motion sickness._

'-

Tom wasn't sure if he would ever get used to travelling with Harry, Master of Death, any time soon.

He had almost balked when Harry steadied him by the elbows, but the other wizard ignored him and insisted it was better than getting motion sickness or getting left behind. He'd certainly argue the point, but Harry's serious expression gave him pause. And _then_ he took a deliberate step forward, taking Tom with him.

His surroundings blurred, colours running into each other like a multitude of watercolour washes. Entire sets of corridors and hallways were crossed at once. He caught the fused impressions of waiting trains that became less and less bulky and more streamlined. The greasy, soot-covered feel of the platforms he had passed changed into cleaner ones as the train no longer emit great stacks of smoke as they move. It was eye-opening if it wasn't as headache-inducing.

"That's one," Harry said, more to himself than anyone.

He glanced around, as if determining for himself the direction he needed to go. Before Tom could say anything, the Master of Death took another step. Suddenly it wasn't trains anymore that he was seeing but _airplanes_. It started with small and delicate crafts that had him doubting their airworthiness, to ones he was more assured in due to the metal of their construction. They passed rudimentary warehouses and hangars into more polished floors, more extensive ground teams and full-fledged airports. The airports grew in size and height as brick structures gave way to concrete, wider and wider windows changing to endless planes of glass and bones of steel. The airplanes shifted in shape, slower than the trains changed but becoming more and more streamlined. He could even see that there was a similar underlying design principle between the two transportation methods, but didn't have time to think about it when Harry came into a stop again.

"Two," he said. "It's either exactly one more, or maybe one-and-half. Hmm. Not sure how I'll manage that. Oh well, I can always wing it."

"What—"

— _is going on?_ He thought, but the words never came out of his mouth as Harry took another step. If he had thought the previous two steps were bad, this one was worse than them combined. Suddenly it wasn't airplanes that they passed by quickly, it was _rockets_. Large ones, small ones, gigantic ones—Tom couldn't stare enough as tried to take in as many common features as he could between all the rockets they'd passed that easily blurred together. They were all engineering marvels the way a great bridge or the crisscrossing catacombs of an underground goblin city was. He couldn't begin to fathom how one designed and began constructing such things. Even lightheaded, his fast mind couldn't stop from _thinking_.

Maybe it was precisely because he was lightheaded that he was looking for _anything_ to distract himself from feeling sick.

"Did they… did they make all that without magic?" He asked, his voice was rather bent out of shape and probably scratchy, but Harry heard him fine all the same.

"What? Ah, rockets! Good question. The answer is, 'it depends', though."

Tom closed his eyes, trying to fight the growing nausea that was sure to come when he felt Harry beginning to decelerate. _Please, not another philosophical question_ , he thought. _I've enough ethical dilemmas and philosophy for five lifetimes_.

Harry seems to notice just how green he was, because he didn't wait for Tom to say anything and continued his explanation. "What I meant was, it depends on what you categorise as magic. Across worlds and universes, there are many kinds of magic. Some rules and limitations we feel on earth in the wizarding world, for example, turned out to be the results of particular features of our planet… but any explanation on that is probably going to take at least one whole day, and enough material to fill a book or two."

They'd come to a stop again, and Tom couldn't feel relieved enough at that. Not relieved enough to open his eyes just yet, but that was fine by him.

"There are more things in heaven and earth than is dreamt of in your philosophy?" Tom asked.

Harry chuckled. "Exactly. Wandless magic, for example, is actually far more common than magic that needs to use focus—like wands."

Tom opened his eyes, finding himself staring out of the observation deck of a spaceport of sorts, and decided he could care less about it for now. He had more important things taking his attention, like the quietly bemused Master of Death standing next to him, idling. He might not have said anything, but Tom was fully aware that he was waiting until his friend felt better before moving on. As annoyed as he was to owe Harry Potter _anything_ , he had to admit that it was certainly not an unusual condition for one soul or another to owe the Master of Death something, so he held his pride in check.

"You're informing me of this because it's a feature of the other life I would have to live through, isn't it?" Tom asked.

Harry's grin was rueful. "Yes. Damn, planning a surprise birthday party for you must be a real pain in the neck."

"I don't generally like surprises," Tom said, without much emotion in his voice.

He also had a good reason for that. He certainly did not like ambushes, unexpected skirmishes and surprise duels and battles. Besides, it wasn't as if he had ever really celebrated his birthday, anyway. Harry walked on, normally this time, and Tom found himself walking beside him before he even thought about it. The other wizard looked entirely too sympathetic for Tom to be comfortable in. It wasn't as if he _knew_ , was it?

"Not all surprises are a bad thing," Harry said. Then, in an entirely too-cheerful voice and a sideways movement in topics far enough to generate portkey nausea, he added. "Speaking of worlds, did you know that there are actually more types of magic that are not in direct opposition or interference of technology than the ones that are? It really is an interesting field, you know."

Tom didn't deign that with an answer. He was quite sure that Harry wasn't expecting one, as he was doing all this for Tom's edification.

"So… what do you think of technology?" Harry asked.

"It's exists," Tom said, his voice as dry as the Sahara.

The Master of Death rolled his eyes. "And _that_ statement was certainly very informative and wasn't confusing _at all_. Come _on_. I thought you had the wizarding superiority thing going on for a while, and the death-to-muggles agenda?"

"I don't actually _want_ death to muggles. There's too many of them that it would be a hassle." Tom said. "And what would I gain from it, anyway? It's not as if I could use those deaths for _something_."

He realised it was true just as the words were said. Why did he care that much about muggles, again, when all he cared about was to place himself in the position to rule the wizarding world? Oh, intimidation and scare tactics, and he gained a lot of followers by espousing that platform. He frowned. What did he get by that, anyway? The whole terror act was certainly a lot more trouble than it was worth. So much effort expended into such a showy conflict with so little gain to show. If it was a business proposal, the Gringotts goblins would've gleefully fed it to their dragons for fuel without reading beyond the first page.

Outwardly, Tom was calmly walking beside Harry. Internally, he was wincing at the realisation.

 _So many things my life didn't make good sense_.

"Well," Harry started, oblivious to the internal dilemma of the person beside him, "I was only saying that because you'd better get used to technology, that's all. After all, there's a good chunk of technology needed to build sturdy, space-faring ships."

It was then when Tom stopped and _really_ looked around the place they were in. Space ports—that explained the wildly-differing styles of the crafts that he could see from where he was standing. It certainly explained why there were two moons in the sky, out of all things, one bright and small and the other duller in colour and larger in appearance. And why was there Jupiter in the night sky? Tom didn't even realise he still remembered the books he had read when he was still in the orphanage, before Hogwarts.

It was ironic how one of the things that had prepared him to a life in Hogwarts was old pulp fiction, science fictions, to be precise.

"Is that Jupiter?" Tom asked, too surprise to say anything else.

"Err, no. I don't think so… I might be wrong, though, the colour _is_ too similar, but I thought Jupiter didn't have any habitable moons…" Harry muttered, more to himself.

Then, he said with a clearer tone, "At any rate, it's a gas giant, and we're probably on one of its moons."

"Ah."

Harry waved a hand and started walking again. "It doesn't matter. We're not waiting _here_ , anyway, so we'd soon be somewhere else."

"Somewhere else?"

"Well, you know how this place is. It's Nowhere and Everywhere."

Tom held back the urge to pinch the bridge of his nose again. If he didn't know better, he'd have thought that the Elder Wand tended to infect its users with some form of Confundus Charm.

'-

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	4. 04 Second Time Around - Anakin

'-

 **Anakin**

* * *

 _"Two lives? What two lives?"_

'-

Anakin and Padmé separated from their embrace after an indeterminate length of time (he certainly wasn't keeping track), apologies and assurances of love well-exchanged for now. In Anakin's case, he felt he still owed her many, many more apologies, but since she refused to hear any more beyond at certain point, he would just have to be satisfied with what he'd said for now. It was not long before another person joined them; a regal woman with hair of the darkest space and eyes like infinity. She was as alien as she was familiar, and before Padmé finished introducing the two of them, he knew who she was exactly. She radiated power in warm evanescent waves.

"Lady Force," he said, bowing without hesitation.

"Master Anakin," she said with a smile. It was one that changed every moment, for she hadn't one smile but a thousand; her features dancing across the expression of a gamut of creatures; of all the types of women who had ever touched her realm. "Come. Your companions will be expecting you soon."

She turned and offered both her hands. Padmé took one, and Anakin followed her example by taking the other. She had barely given them any time to prepare before she _stepped_ , and they moved at a speed unfathomable on foot, though nary a wind touched their hair. The unreal, half-present crowd of travellers around them merged into an ever shifting colourful blob, the borders of the individuals unnoticeable now. They passed dozens and dozens of space ports, from ones with ships he could easily recognise to those crafts had a bulbous, organic, and consequently completely alien shape to him (and for a Jedi that had travelled the galaxy, that was saying something).

 _If it was ever possible to walk at hyperdrive speeds_ , _this is it_ , Anakin thought. He was trying to fight down the lightheadness and wasn't sure whether he was succeeding or not.

He could feel them decelerating, as the people became more distinct once again and the architecture no longer flickering so quickly in his field of vision. Soon enough he found himself and Padmé walking alongside the lady at a normal pace. The crowd was never a problem for them, as the travellers never did anything but mind their own business and yet somehow made way for them and avoided their direct path. Sometimes their pace was frantic, at other times more leisurely, but none was ever distracted from that far-away focus that each had.

"Now," Lady Force said, "the seat you will be waiting at, is beyond that archway."

He followed her gesture easily; there was an open archway made of gleaming white stone, tall and wide and he could probably drive a herd of bantha through it without any issues.

"Before we part ways, is there anything you wanted to ask about your next two lives?"

Confusion slapped him on the face and his eyes widened. "Two lives? What two lives?"

Lady Force turned to Padmé with a question in her eyes. Padmé spoke at a carefully measured pace. If Anakin didn't know any better, he wouldn't have caught the hints of embarassment hidden all too well within her poise.

"I fully accept any responsibility over this. I got carried away meeting Ani again that I haven't informed him of his arrangements, nor of his travelling partner." Padmé said, every inch the senator.

"Travelling partner?" Anakin asked.

Lady Force exhaled, glancing between the two married Skywalkers who at this point had failed to hold back the matching happy, foolish grins that all people too deeply in love had. She gazed at Anakin.

"I suppose it was only to be expected. That was why I thought it would've been better for Obi-Wan to inform you of it than Padmé."

"I think he did it so we'd have more time together," Anakin said, easily coming to his former master's defence. The Lady Force only nodded at that, unperturbed.

"I'm sure he did. It does not mean he's not remiss at his task," she firmly said.

Padmé stopped Anakin from jumping into an argument hastily by a light kick to his shin. If anyone in the senate had seen her, she would've been embarassed being caught doing such an undignified action, but one had to admit that subtlety doesn't work on Anakin. Not when he was being emotional.

"Very well, I'll tell you what you need to know now. To start with, I thought it would be a better lesson for you to have a responsibility along with your opportunity. Thus you have one life of your own to improve upon, and the life of another to help watch over. The same task is given to your travelling companion—he would have a life of his own to try to do better at this time, and he would have your life to watch over—"

"I don't need anyone to watch me," Anakin cut in. He would've said more if the two women didn't stare him down wordlessly and immediately, something unspeakably heavy hanging over him in the air.

For once in undoubtedly not very many times in his life, Anakin decided that discretion was the better part of valour and kept his mouth shut. A good Jedi picks his battles.

"Thank you," Lady Force said. "Now, if you would allow me to finish…"

'-

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	5. 05 Second Time Around - Terminus

**Author's Note:** My primary method of internet connection is my cellphone. Thing is, it just up and died at me recently, in the midst of all the holiday rush and general busyness. Any updates and replies are going to be a bit sporadic. Sorry about that.

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'-

 **Terminus**

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 _Tag-along partners._

'-

The Lady Force had finished her explanation, though it wasn't quite to Anakin's satisfaction as there were things she refused to elaborate upon and felt that they would be better for him to either figure out himself or experience firsthand. He had said his goodbyes to Padmé, the whole affair no less bittersweet and drawn out for him even with the knowledge that it wouldn't be forever and that they'd meet again one day. Lady Force was surprisingly patient through all of this, waiting on them with an unmatched calmness. In the end, he was tired of dragging his feet through all this and steeled himself to continue.

The manifestation of the Force led him beyond the white archway and he trailed faithfully behind her.

Unlike other parts of the spaceport this one was quite empty of the hurrying travellers he was getting used to always seeing, perpetually making their way around him. ( _This entire place is a terminal,_ the _Terminal_ , she had corrected him, _you are in Terminus; the terminal at the End of Lives_ ). The floor gleamed white, but with a delicate gold veining that he was sure he'd rarely seen outside imperial palaces. The transparisteel window that was one whole wall on its own opened up to a view of docking ships. It was almost like the bench he had waited at before, with perhaps a few subtle differences. One of these differences was how on the other end of the room from the window was a train platform, with train tracks.

There was another archway, opposite to the one he had just entered from. A man with messy dark hair and impressive black cloak swept in from it, another, taller man walked beside him.

"I see you have an excellent timing, My lady," He smiled widely the moment he saw Lady Force.

She smiled in kind. "We can _always_ have excellent timing, Master of Death."

He looked sheepish at her assertion, and seemed younger with that hint of boyish awkwardness. "I'm sorry, I'm still new at this business—I'm a new aspect, you know? On that note, I'm not sure this aspect of yours is the Lady Magic, is it? I'm afraid I've yet to recognise all your aspects."

Anakin stared at the man in surprise—Master of Death, he supposed, from the way Lady Force called him. Magic? He knew what laypeople thought about the Jedi and their almost outlandish abilities, but he was quite sure the old masters would be having fits in hearing the Force mentioned as such. The fact that his casual words didn't faze Lady Force made him wonder if there was actually more truth to those words than most of the old Jedi Order was ready to contemplate. He had to suppress a grin at that.

"This aspect of me is the Force, Master Death," she said.

The Master of Death nodded. "Please, just Harry. The whole Master of Death thing makes me feel old—far older than I'd like, in any case. Lady Force, this is Tom Riddle, Tom Riddle, this is the Lady Force. She's the aspect of magic you'd encounter in the other life, so it would be better if you could get used to how she feels there from now."

The other man stepped forward and kissed the Lady Force's hand. He was taller than _Harry_ , Master of Death, but still stopped a little short before Anakin's towering height.

"My pleasure to meet you, My Lady."

"The pleasure is all mine," she said. "Now, let me introduce you both to Anakin Skywalker, Jedi Knight. Anakin Skywalker, the aspect of the Master of Death that you see now used to be Harry Potter when he was alive, and the wizard next to him is Tom Riddle. Harry, Tom, this is Anakin Skywalker."

Anakin's mind reeled at the revelation. _Wait, wizards?_

He was still caught up with the movements and somehow they managed to shake hands. Both he and the other wizard had the slightly wide-eyed look of a green recruit tossed directly into battle, both trying to find their bearings as their the world as they knew it shifted faster than quicksand. The aspects of Death and Force carried most of the casual conversation between them while the wizard and the Jedi exchanged appraising glances at each other, at least when neither of the other two pulled them into the conversation by asking some questions. Tom made a personal request to the Lady Force that had them setting to the side for a while as they talked in low voices.

"Before we leave, do you have any final wish?" Harry asked him.

"What sort of final wish?"

Harry shrugged. "I don't know. Something about your upcoming life, well, lives. I know Tom's making his to the Lady Force. I thought I should ask you about yours. Is there anything you'd like to make it easier? Someone you wanted to see?"

There was no doubt about the answer to that question.

"Padmé," he said. "I want to know for sure that I'd meet her again and I can be there for her, even if she didn't love me."

Harry gave him a wistful smile. "Alright. Love, eh? Don't sell yourself too short just yet. Love's still one of the strongest forces in the universe. It is one of the most flexible and most enduring."

Anakin shook his head. "I know I've done too much."

Harry rolled his eyes but didn't enter into another argument. "Consider your request granted."

Not long after that, Death and Force had taken leave of each other, leaving two former dark lords alone in each other's company and with only one available bench.

Anakin didn't know what to make of the man in front of him. He wasn't huge and muscular, but he was tall enough and leveraged his height to his utmost advantage to impose, while seeming to not even care about it. He stood with the confidence of a man used to command and power. There was a hint of dry humour in his cool smile and an alertness in his rapid observation of his surroundings that betrayed a sharp intelligence. If he was still Vader he would decide that Tom Riddle was the type of person he needed to either bring in line with him or eliminate as quickly as possible before he became trouble.

Then the _two_ holocrons came to life. Anakin could easily recognise one as his life, while the other was completely unfamiliar. He suspected it was the life of the man in front of him.

The wizard was the first one to sit down, unconcerned by Anakin's presence. He did it so easily that Anakin couldn't find any reason why he shouldn't follow suit. Considering that he had seen many grown men quaking in their boots at his sight that he had to grudgingly admit that Tom was certainly not lacking in bravado, if not courage.

"The first thing I'd requested about being reborn," Tom said, "Is to ensure my name isn't Tom. I don't care if it's Thomas, or Thornton or _Thackeray_. I don't even care if Tom was a nickname—just as long as it isn't my actual name."

"Why is that?" Anakin asked, deciding that it wasn't a completely bad idea to follow the conversation he had started for now.

"Because the man who sired me was a fool and an idiot, completely mundane by all means. If the woman who gave birth to me wasn't so hopelessly in love with him, she wouldn't have given me his name."

Those words struck Anakin with a particular wrongness and his jaws tensed. "Do you always treat your mother that way?"

" _Mother_?" Tom asked, dark humour in his voice. "You mean, the woman who brainwashed her muggle, I'm sorry, _non-magical_ husband into marrying her and be her love slave? Who died after giving birth to a magical child, and thus allowing said husband to come to his senses and ran as fast as he could from anything remotely magical? The woman who had a child in a relationship not admitted by any members of her family, thus consigning me to growing up in a non-magical orphanage, cut off from my legacy and only developing my magic instinctively until I went to a magical school later on?"

" _That_ woman who absolutely failed at family planning?" He asked, cooly.

Anakin felt a sting when he heard of how the relationship between Tom's parents wasn't admitted by his mother's side of the family. It sounded a bit too close to his secret marriage with Padmé, and hit his guilt center easily because of that. It's not as if he would fault _Luke_ was ever angry with him for depriving him of both of his parents while growing up (not that Luke was angry at all—he couldn't figure out how he ended up with such a good-natured kid, but he wasn't complaining). So could he judge Tom differently just because Tom wasn't his son? The uncomfortable answer to that was _no_.

"Sorry," he muttered.

Tom didn't even look disturbed at that as he shook it away with a smooth wave of his hand. "It's fine. I don't really care about her."

Anakin was taken aback for a moment, but he heard the truth rang in the words. Tom just didn't care about his parents—and didn't want to care. Considering that he could choose to stay angry and to sink into his hatred of them (things too close to the Dark Side), could he fault Tom's detachment from them?

"You don't know me." Tom continued, oblivious to Anakin's running thoughts. "I don't know you. I suppose this was why we're introduced before we get our second chance. It's probably so we could watch each other's lives and learn a few things."

Anakin nodded, understanding completely. "Yeah, especially if we were to be brothers."

"Excuse me?"

There was a sudden undercurrent of ice in Tom's voice, but years as a Sith Lord gave Anakin a lot of experience in noticing how almost any emotion could be converted into anger with little effort. Included in that is surprise or shock, or annoyance. He couldn't stop a small smile from surfacing.

"Lady Force informed me we were going to be fraternal twins in both lives. My mother, Shmi Skywalker, would be having twins in my world instead of giving birth to only me, and your mother—" Tom didn't suppress the flicker of annoyance in his expression at the word, "—would instead of just giving birth to you, would be bearing twins."

"Merlin's _balls_ ," Tom cursed as he stood up and decided to spend his restlesness through pacing. Anakin raised both his eyebrows at that. The wizard added a bit more choice words to that with a creativity that impressed the Jedi. He didn't expect the black-haired man to be the cursing type—for all intents and purpose, his appearance was of a cultured and polished gentleman instead of one that was rough around the edges.

Tom wasn't looking at him.

"Why that annoying, obfuscating _prick_ ," he muttered. "If I get my hands on him again, I'd certainly give him some _entertainment_ to while away his time."

" _Harry_ didn't tell you, did he?" Anakin asked, quite certain of the answer already.

" _No_."

"You have a problem with being my brother?" Anakin asked.

He didn't even know why he asked. Would he be offended if someone didn't want to be his brother? Somebody who was an ex-dark lord, if what the Lady Force said was right? Should he actually be relieved, then? He did what he usually does when he was confused. He placed everything inside a mental box and vowed to revisit it later.

Tom paused and he cocked his head to one side.

"I have no opinion about it whatsoever," his voice was calmer now. "Huh. Strange, but true, I suppose. It's just… I had expected that I would've played a passive role in your world, an invisible observer than an actual flesh-and-blood person. The latter would necessitate and entirely different sort of plan."

"So, what are you going to do now?"

Tom let out his breath, his expression still unamused. "Now? We learn. We learn and plan."

Anakin checked his wrist chrono. He wasn't aware it was even functional until now, but he wasn't going to dwell on it.

"Better do it quickly then. I don't think we have a lot of time remaining."

'-

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	6. 06 Dark Lords Anonymous - Torture

**Author's Note:** My old and trusty cell phone is still dead and internet connectivity is still a crapshoot on top of RL being crazy. So, be prepared for a bit of an irregular schedule for a while.

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 **= Dark Lords Anonymous =**

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'-

 **Torture**

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Anakin was looking at anywhere but the scenes in which a careless information officer was getting the life squeezed out of him by Darth Vader. Grey and black on white. Such was the lot of the imperial officer, monotone in life and monochromatic in death.

He would _love_ to be able to change the channel, but Tom's unblinking attention at that part of his life meant that odds are, the pictures won't be changing into anything soon. Not when such rapt attention was paid to them. When his efforts at ignorance failed, he gave up and tried the direct approach.

"Could we change it to something else?" Anakin said.

"Why?" Tom asked. His voice was entirely too level, his expression too calm that he was easily getting on Anakin's nerves. His being a dark lord would certainly explain his oddities well…

 _Or maybe it was your dislike anyone of the 'perfect Jedi' type_ , he thought. He tried not to let his usual bias cloud his judgment.

"Why would you want to see me torture some unfortunate soldier?" Anakin asked.

Tom stared at him strangely, one eyebrow raised. "I'm still observing the effects of Dark Side usage. It seems that have to agree with one of your earlier statements, Skywalker. Using the Dark Side does make emotions swing in uncontrollable ways, with some limitations on judgments…" he trailed away, lost in his own thoughts for a while.

"…anyway, you weren't torturing him." He added, almost as an afterthought. He had turned his attention back to the scenes of Darth Vader aboard the Executor.

"What, you think choking him to death isn't torture?" Anakin asked.

Tom gazed at the screen again, still with that uncanny focus. His voice was composed and civilised—how a man from a world so historical and underdeveloped actually had a polished Coruscanti accent reminiscent of Obi-Wan, elegant instead of over-the-top was a mystery he was sure he'd never figure out.

"It's unpleasant, yes, but I'd say it wasn't torture. It's a hasty execution borne out of uncontrolled rage."

A slight narrowing of the eyes that was almost unnoticeable and the change in his Force-presence told him that Tom certainly had objections to unguarded rage. It made him felt a bit better about the other man.

"How is choking _not_ torture?" Anakin, asked.

"No. To torture would be to channel water into his lungs. When he'd been gasping for a while and seemed to be losing consciousness, you draw the water out and let him breathe and collect himself again before the lack of air damaged his brain permanently. Drowning is a sensation that triggers a deep-seated panic reaction in the human mind, so much that it can overwhelm everything else. Repeat ad nauseum until he gives you answers or agrees with anything you say. Sometimes it's a toss up as to what sort of answers they actually give you."

A pause. There was an almost imperceptible change in his tone.

"Do you know something? When you do that to a man repeatedly, you will soon find the frightened animal breaking out of the veneer of humanity—desperate and craven, suggestible and commandable. Thus you can continue until you've broken his mind, until his misery ceases to entertain you, or both."

The words were precise and clear cut, but the scariest thing about them was how his last sentence had rang in the Force with _honesty_. There hadn't even been guilt there. Just an acknowledgement of the truth of the past.

Tom met Anakin's gaze.

" _That_ is an example of torture. What you did there? No, that wasn't torture." He chuckled, and Anakin heard its sardonic edges then. "Whatever you became once, Mr. Skywalker, with this dangerous Dark Side taking over you that you speak of, you never quite became an abomination."

Anakin heard the unsaid words as clear as if they had been uttered: _Not like what I had been_.

He didn't know whether to feel relieved for himself or worried about his companion.

'-

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	7. 07 Dark Lords Anonymous - Padmé

**Author's Note:** My access to the internet is still a crapshoot. Urgh.

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'-

 **Padmé**

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"You have a wife?" The question fell from his lips without thinking.

Tom was watching Anakin's life, and out of all the things he had expected to see, it was not _that_. Anakin was annoyed. It was clear that the disbelief was something he'd probably encountered often enough.

"Look, I know the Jedi code opposes attachments and relationships and—"

"No, not that," Tom waved it away carelessly. He didn't even know anything about the Jedi code, nor did he cared much about it. He had always been one to take what he wanted, the world's opinions be damned. It was too natural for him to consider that if he was Anakin, and he wanted to have a wife, the Jedi code would certainly be the last thing to stop him.

"I meant it as, you, a _dark lord_ , having a wife—how does that work out?"

 _How did a man practically brimming with_ love _for all intents and purposes, end up as a dark lord?_

"It didn't," he said bitterly. "She died."

"You became one after she died?"

"That would have almost been better, wouldn't it?" He replied. His voice still had that edge to it, and Tom knew what he meant.

"But then why would you turn into one if you had… her?" Tom asked, and only a lifetime of control held his voice devoid of any of the curiosity that his mind was considering. He was still not quite certain how a wife played in the grander scheme that was Anakin Skywalker's life, especially his fall.

Tom may not have been watching for long, but the way Padmé Amidala argued in the senate told him that she was clever and ambitious, both admirable traits, even if she was a little too passionate and tender-hearted for Tom's comfort. At the very least, he could understand why Anakin could fall in love with one Padmé Amidala. Not that Tom would've let someone else's moral preferences to dictate his, but Anakin unfortunately seem to belong in that category. Padmé also didn't look like someone who would've tolerated her husband's hobbies if it included a little torture and interrogation on the side…

If her vehement defence of the republic was anything to go on, he wasn't sure if she'd ever forgive Anakin if he aided any dictatorship.

Silence drifted between them, and Tom waited. When he began to think that maybe his erstwhile companion had forgotten the question, Anakin gave him the answer.

"It was for her."

"I don't think she was looking for that kind of power," Tom replied, an eyebrow raised. Anakin continued while showing no signs that he had heard what the wizard had said.

"I had visions of her death. I had to prevent it; I _wanted_ the power to prevent that."

Tom remembered the 'visions' he sent to Harry about his godfather, and instinctively knew what happened.

"It was a trap, wasn't it?"

Anakin sighed, weary. "If it was, it wasn't intentional. It was my fears that made it so. It _was_ a real vision. I just failed to recognise that it was a self-fulfilling prophecy."

He blinked. He almost couldn't believe the man was a dark lord if he hadn't been told about it, and if he hadn't come across some of the scenes from the latter years of Anakin's life that had all the requisite death and destruction in it. But his early years? He was a sodding _hero_. Trust Potter to leave him with someone just as heroic as himself.

"And you fell all the same," Tom wondered, still staring. His words stumbled over truth that he could not make sense of.

"Because of _love_."

 _Who would've thought that love was a viable path to fall? It beggars belief._ The man in front of him was as much of a Dark Arts practitioner as he was—and he had _loved_.

Anakin shook his head, disagreeing. "No, it wasn't love that was the turning point, it was the attachment itself, and that was the vulnerability that fear could use. Fear of loss and fear of death."

 _Well_ , Tom thought while trying to process that, _that's certainly interesting_.

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	8. 08 Dark Lords Anonymous - Deaths &

**Author's Note:**

To **moon so bright** , thanks for all the consecutive reviews! Haven't heard from my readers for a while, got worried. Thanks to everyone else who had reviewed too. Again, my internet connection sucks. Hence my almost nonexistence on the internet other than the updates. Bear with me for a while, okay?

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 **Deaths and Children**

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"So…" Anakin started, "Dark lord, huh?"

"Yes," Tom said. " _Dark Lord_ , the whole 'kill, slash, maim, burn' shtick and 'rule the world's ashes' afterwards. Fortunately for the world, I didn't exactly succeed in the ashes bit."

Anakin's holocron was playing the scenes of his massacre in the Jedi Temple, something he wasn't keen on reliving at all. Tom's painting-holocron was playing the Battle of Hogwarts. If either men noticed any similarities, or how they both seem to prefer doing their best at not-watching, they certainly didn't mention it.

"Can't we change the scenes?" Anakin wondered.

"I've noticed that it usually follows your thoughts or any conversation you were having," Tom replied. He was leaning forward with his elbows on his knees. "But when it gets stuck at a particular scene or part for a while? Tough luck. That usually means there's something you've missed and it's trying to get your attention through repetition."

 _Damn_ , Anakin thought. _So much for not thinking about the Jedi Temple massacre_. Silence fell like a dank and gloomy blanket over them, and they couldn't possibly look more miserable than a pair of drenched cats if they tried. Anakin's fingers were jittery in the silence, and before long his annoyance exploded.

"What could I possibly miss about _killing children_?"

"Maybe your technique needs work," Tom murmurred with the same even, half-distracted tone. The Jedi had switched on his lightsaber at the words, with barely a conscious thought on it, but the low-level hum of its energy wasn't something Tom would miss.

"Ah, excuse me. Still too soon, I take it?" Tom asked casually. He didn't move even when the blue glow of the lightsaber was lighting up his neck. Anakin felt his throat tighten. He could still hear the shouts and screams ringing in his ears, the looks of disbelief, the expressions of terror and _horror_ …

"Did you think it was _funny_?"

"I think anything's better than being a hair's breadth away from raging. I was getting pissed off from all the playback." Tom replied. The even, civilised tone of his voice did not match the bleak intensity of _nothing_ that bled from his eyes. He leaned back, not quite caring that the lightsaber slid past his neck as he did so or how the skin there sizzled, and Anakin pulled his blade away. He wasn't going to assist in suicide-by-Jedi—the other man barely even blinked at the wound.

Anakin realised that the two of them were the same that way; violence and the wounds it begets was a constant companion in their lives.

"It's probably a good idea to tell you now that my sense of humour can be a bit odd." Tom said. Anakin snorted. _Give the man an award for understatement of the year_.

"Yet I have to say that I don't take any particular pleasure from watching the children in your past die."

"Don't you?"

The wizard stared at him as if he was an idiot. It was only because as Vader he always habitually kept his thoughts in check in the presence of the Emperor that he hadn't yet said anything. The dark haired man shook his head.

"I don't _know_ them—it's unreasonable to expect someone to feel from their deepest heart towards strangers, don't you think? It is undoubtedly a waste of life. I'm not saying that I'll lose sleep over it, but wastefulness is still wastefulness."

Anakin was incredulous. _That_ was his best reason as to why he disliked massacre? "You don't lose sleep over it?"

"Would you rather that I give you false platitudes and sympathy?" He parried. "Rather than the truth?"

"Were you actually going to _not_ be a dark lord in your second chance?"

"Would I be sitting here with you if I weren't?" Tom asked back. His lips quirked a little at their mounting frustration and he chose to cede ground a little. "And no, I truly am not looking forward to become a dark lord _again_. Turned out to be a pretty waste of time."

He could hear the undeniable truth in Tom's reply through the Force. He threw his hands in the air. The wizard wasn't making any _sense_.

" _Why?_ "

"You mean, other than the destruction, defeat and general uselessness of it?"

Anakin rolled his eyes. "No, not _that_."

"So _what_ , then?"

He was staring at Anakin with a genuinely perplexed look on his face that it annoyed him even more. The question wasn't that hard, was it? It should've been obvious! From the crease on his forehead that was still there, Anakin was forced to admit that it wasn't as clear as he thought it would be. Or maybe he was just stuck with a weirdo. He took a deep breath and tried to gather his thoughts together and put them in some semblance of order. _Patience, Padawan_ , said a voice in his head that sounded suspiciously like Obi-Wan.

"I saw you watching your own past as well as mine. The deaths don't quite affect you, not like they could affect me." _The man was close to an unfeeling bastard_ , he thought, but didn't say. Who said he didn't have any tact? "I don't think you have a burning need to ensure the people you've killed are alive the next time around, so why do you wish to relive your life and change it?"

"Why should _anyone_ let the deaths of too many people, so many that it can _change_ the future of a civilisation, go unchanged and unprevented?" Tom drawled.

If Anakin hadn't been so closely in touch with the Force, he wouldn't notice that Tom _was_ seriously asking his question, that he _did_ consider it important instead of just a rejoinder to use in playing devil's advocate. The fact that he did that was just icing on the cake. _Wait, or was the truth_ the _icing on the cake of being a devil's advocate?_ He was having a difficulty in keeping track of their conversation. If he didn't know better, he swore that the wizard was actually a politician rather than a Dark Lord.

"You're more frustrating to talk to than Obi-Wan, and that's saying _something_."

"I _was_ answering your questions and preventing further misunderstandings at the same time. I've never been a sentimental person and it would help our future interaction if you keep that in mind. Make no mistakes, Mr. Skywalker, I do _not_ think like you because _I am not like you_." He gave a long and deliberate stare, and Anakin realised he had taken the measure of him and had found something lacking.

"It does not mean, however, that my purposes are at odds with yours or that I'm less driven, no matter how different the reason or how _alien_ you might find it." he said. There were unexpected traces of annoyance in his usually level voice. "So the fact that you might not be asking the right questions, or the ones whose answers you _do_ want, is _not_ exactly my problem."

 _Think of the bright side_ , Anakin thought to himself as he struggled with the urge to force-choke the wizard on the spot, _if he ever met them, the Jedi Council wouldn't know what hit them_. He sighed. He'd also realised that he was getting too carried away instead of calmly letting the Force guide him. He took a deep breath and tried to let his frustrations go. _Think_ , he thought. _What is the right question?_

How do you find the right question to ask to a man who'd straight out admitted that other people's deaths didn't really touch him?

 _But is that more important than how he_ didn't _want to be a dark lord? Or how he considered the deaths a waste? Would the Force and the Master of Death give him a second chance of his own, if he hadn't changed in his purpose?_

Anakin had only then noticed that the man had instinctively been using the Force to hear beyond just the words that were said. Perhaps that was why he answered Anakin's questions that way before; the wizard chose not to play into his indirect accusations. It was because Anakin was unconsciously on the offensive that he played defence.

Anakin might find it very hard to get a read on his emotions, but he had to be blind not to realise that Tom _was_ annoyed at being suspected and not trusted.

The realisation was a little startling. After all the years of resenting the Council's suspicion of him, here he was repeating their mistake to someone else! If Obi-Wan was here, he would have swiped the back of his head for failing to follow the most basic interrogation procedure. It could be applied to any conversation, actually.

 _Ask your question but hold no assumptions, Padawan_. He took a deep breath, reached for the Force and decided to do just that.

"Why is changing your life so that less deaths occur important to you, when you could care less?"

To Anakin's surprise, the question he was asking wasn't a completely new one. However, there was no rampant emotion running unchecked in his voice this time. There was no disbelief, or discomfort towards the peculiar wizard, only his interest in finding out its answer. Perhaps it had been that, that changed Tom's reaction towards him as he listened.

"Because." The dark-haired man said, softly, drawing the word out from somewhere far inside him where it had lain all this time gathering dust. "Because I've caused a civilisation to fall, when I first sought out to improve it. I have caused the loss of many lives that would've made a difference in its future. When I started on my path to power, it was to grow stronger."

"What I did was to destroy the only home I knew. The man I've become at the end of the journey was someone I wish I didn't know at all." His voice was still that neutral, oddly calm one that could easily get on Anakin's nerves, but he didn't take it personally now.

This was because Anakin could feel how cold the _nothing_ stabbing outwards in the Force from the man was. The sensation gripped his bones—Tom Riddle _did_ have something important to him that he'd lost, even if it would seem that he had trouble actually caring for people in general. That man was a master of masks and Anakin suspected he might've even successfully lied to himself more than once. _Had he been holding this inside him all this time? Where did he keep it? How did he manage?_

"You know," Anakin said, trying to distract him. "Maybe I should tell you the short version of how my life went, properly from the beginning, and after that you can tell me how yours went."

'-

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	9. 09 Dark Lords Anonymous - Battle at

'-

 **Battle at the Ministry**

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Tom glanced up to the scenes of his life that was playing in front of him, just to check whether it was still the same battle as before—the battle at the Ministry of Magic. _Why Skywalker gets fixated on it, I have no idea_. It was neither the fruits of meticulous planning or logistic nor was it an example of exemplary strategy or tactics.

"What could be so interesting about it? I've told you all of it before. I gave false visions to Harry because I wanted him to take the prophecy concerning both of us. He fell for the trap and ran off on his own and straight into the ambush. I gained the prophecy and his godfather died. End of story." Tom finished. He saw how Anakin twitched at the word prophecy, but let it slide.

"I don't know either. There's just… something about the whole thing," the Jedi replied. Tom closed his eyes. To be stuck with someone with Harry's skill in words… it was probably fate's payback.

"Maybe it's because you're facing children," Anakin said.

"Are you saying that there are no teenagers in the Rebellion? No wide-eyed, idealistic youths?" Tom asked in disbelief.

"Maybe, but they're not so obviously, in-your-face, _children_ ," Anakin replied a little too quickly.

Tom didn't have anything to say to that, other than to lean back on the bench with his eyes closed with a hand over his face. He didn't care that much about what Harry's apparent age had been back then, and even now he wasn't sure if he cared either. He himself would've be able to kill as easily when he was Harry's age as he would've when he was at the height of his power; there was thus no reason to expect less capabilities from other people. Neither of those perspectives was something Anakin would've liked hearing about, Tom was sure, so he chose the diplomatic approach here kept his silence. The scene, however, still vexed him. The quiet didn't last long as he sat up again.

"Can't you change that to something else?" He asked.

"Why?"

Tom caught himself in time from clenching his jaws. "Because it's stupid."

Anakin was staring at him with an incredulous look. Tom felt like hitting himself for it too. _Stupid?_ Sure. Fighting words for a pair of eight-year-olds, it was. Yet just because the words seem simple does not preclude them from being true, and Tom knew that they _were_ true in this case. He took a deep breath and began explaining, forcing the words out instead of backing away.

"The battle there was stupid. It would've been a simpler operation if I sent someone to steal some of his hair (he was always careless with them), brew a Polyjuice potion with it and thus gain his form. I could've walked straight in, alone, in broad daylights and tell them that I'm Harry Potter and that I wanted to listen to a prophecy that had been told about me. _That's it_. That's all it takes."

"Yet, you know what actually happened? _This._ " Tom made a sweeping gesture towards the scene in front of him. For all the grandeur of his pose, his mocking expression only heightened the irony.

"This _farce_ ," he spat out.

Anakin looked away from Tom, allowing him to fume in silence. The scenes in front of them changed. Tom let his face fall into his hands as he steadied his breathing. He was glad for Anakin's apparent understanding, but he didn't know what to say. The past caught him up in its claws more than once, the choices he had made no less a disappointment after repeated watching. He was still coming to terms with the wanton destruction he carved so easily and his ignorance of it. He had with him now his complete intellect and understanding instead of the frayed remnants of his sanity, and the weight of the choices he had made had never felt heavier. The war and his reign of terror gained him _nothing_.

 _Oh how the mighty fall_.

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	10. 10 Dark Lords Anonymous - Offsprings

**Author's Note:**

Happy Chinese New Year! Sorry for the late reply. Was out of town, what with the holiday and all and did I mention that my internet connection sucks? Only for the last umpteenth time, I'm sure. To compensate for the delayed update, I'm practically updating with two chapters at once - this one, which is the last in this particular fic, and the first chapter of the next story in the series. Happy Reading.

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'-

 **Offsprings**

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Tom found himself unable to look away at the trainwreck of a scene in front of him. He had just seen Darth Vader torture a young senator who was actually his long-separated and hidden daughter, with injections of potions ( _drugs_ , he corrected, might as well get used to the proper names). It was certainly a cleaner method than to manually harm and bleed someone, and the clear upside of it is the very quick recovery rate. Yet to say that it was better was akin to saying Crucio is an improvement on thumbscrews.

It _wasn't_.

He knew that for sure—he did a comparison once. It was part of a body of knowledge he was filing away in a drawer at the back of his mind and would be careful not to mention to anyone else to avoid misunderstandings. He will not hesitate to utilise them again if they were useful—knowledge was neutral. It's their use and purposes that isn't.

Anakin was wearing a path down behind the bench, restlessly pacing instead of going along with Tom who was watching it, because the Jedi couldn't see this part of his life again. The wizard didn't blame him. For one who had never before considered having a family, he saw how Leia Organa's rashness, bullheadedness and several other character traits echo Anakin's so closely in ways that was probably poignant for the other man. Even _Tom_ had wondered how much more interesting she would've grown up to be if the Jedi had raised her himself. An odd question had raised itself at the back of his mind.

 _What would you do if you had a child of your own?_

He would raise the child became the greatest wizard or witch the world has ever seen, Tom thought. The decision was unexpectedly firm for one that he had only contemplated the moment before, but was it so surprising? He was one of the greatest wizards in the last century or two, he was sure that any offspring of his would not be any less stellar. So why would he want other people to raise them, and possibly do something wrong in the process?

Hmm. What would he do if he was in Anakin's place?

 _I would quickly become very upset with the Emperor_. How Darth Vader toed the line with him for so long was something he didn't understand, but the last time he wondered out loud about Anakin's increasingly desperate attempts to corrupt Luke, the taller man countered it by asking why in the _galaxy_ did he have to go through the motions of the Triwizard Tournament just to kidnap one boy? The fact that it came through was a testament to his sheer luck than the plan's merit, as the plan relied on too many events happening just right and at the same time.

Unwilling to be pulled into another game of you're-stupider-than-me or does-being-a-dark-lord-meant-sacrificing-your-brain?, since it had them rowing rather spectacularly more than once before, Tom held back. (And wasn't he glad that neither Harry nor the Lady Magic saw them then to have second thoughts about giving them another life?). He decided to just chalk it up as another example of how the Dark Side (or Dark Arts, in his own case) perverts judgment.

At this point, the list was getting embarrassingly long.

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 **Author's Note:**

Any feedback would be much appreciated.


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